


No Sudden Moves

by Little_Dawns



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Reichenbach, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Dawns/pseuds/Little_Dawns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This has been hanging around as a draft forever, so I finally decided to give it a go (before the BBC reveals the 'post Reichenbach' scenario itself;)</p><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing. They own my Sherlock heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sudden Moves

“Sherlock. _Sherlock_!”

Sherlock couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. What was going on? His fingertips felt numb, and the taste of copper was bitter in his mouth.

Half crazed.

It was dark, so dark. And it was impossible to breathe. So warm. He had to get out, out of here. And where was he? His skin felt too tight and claustrophobia started creeping up his body, slowly cutting off the last bits of oxygen.

“John.”

“JOHN!”

Shallow breaths. Sherlock tried to still everything that his body desperately needed to do - breathe twice as fast, triple its heart rate, bloody _panic_.

He stretched out his arms. Didn’t get far. Tried to feel the walls around him. Elastic. Rubber. Body Bag. He must be in a body bag. Terror overwhelmed in. A fleeting image of that hound in Baskerville crossed his mind. Not unlike then. Sherlock closed his eyes, attempting to delete everything from his mind for the time being.

Instead, it all came rushing back. _Everything_. The memories. The bombs, the break-ins, Moriarty.

His fall.

Was he still outside? Was he in the morgue? Were John and Molly nearby? Had she already declared him dead? Was he dead?  
Logic told him that he was very much alive (heaven didn’t come in a body bag), but still, he felt nauseated, positively skinned and he was probably going to be sick. Odd, though, that he didn’t feel any pain.

He remembered. Molly had doped him. Good girl. So their plan must have worked. He only hoped that his fall hadn't caused any permanent damages, like losing a limb, or worse, his mobile phone.  
And that John didn’t suffer. He saw him standing across the street, desperately trying to dissuade him from jumping off that roof. Sentimental fool. John would blame himself for being unable to rescue his friend, maybe even his best friend, and now his deceased friend.

He felt blood tickle from his temple. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like lying in a pool of blood. His blood. He tried to discern whether his suspicions would be confirmed, when there was suddenly movement nearby. Someone wheeled him around.

He felt a hand approximately where his face was. The panic threatened to come back.

“Shhh, it’s going to be alright", somebody whispered.

The hand moved upwards and awkwardly caressed his forehead and right eye through the body bag.  
Measuring the short span between thumb and forefinger, this person who tried to locate certain body parts of his had to be Molly. She was likely the only person in the room, but Sherlock remained still as long as he couldn’t properly assess the situation.

_Zip._

Blurred lines slowly transformed into the fine contours of a face, Molly's face.

Molly- who could only stare at this fragile shell that was Sherlock, already shimmering in the deepest shades of black and blue.


End file.
